Harry Potter and the Dark Corridor
by Smeargle Spence
Summary: Harry meets a new 6th year at Hogwarts, who speaks in a foreign language, and is also a professor! Also: Is Hermione falling in love? When the forbidden corridor in the prefect's area is opened by an unknown servant of Voldemort, strange things happen.
1. The Main Characters

The Characters:  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Harry Potter: The hero, yeah, go Harry. Really, just the best character in my stories. (NOT!)  
  
Hermione Granger: One of the only girls in Harry Potter, Hermione finds herself falling for Sketch. She is 15 years old in Dark Corridor, and Sketch is 16. She is brilliant, and knows almost every spell in the wizarding world. Almost.  
  
Ron Weasley: Born from and raised in a poor wizarding family, Ronald Weasley is the 2nd youngest of seven kids. Draco Malfoy regularly teases him about his lack of money when he's not teasing him about hanging out with Harry or following Hermione everywhere. :D  
  
Fred and George Weasley: Ron's older brothers. They are twins, and love to play jokes. The year Sketch comes is their final year at Hogwarts.  
  
Sketch: The hero! Well, no, not really, the villain, but who cares! Born from a unknown Muggle family, Sketch is the kid with a fiery temper, brain of Einstein, sanity of a lunatic, and a thing for girls. He is utterly brilliant, and rumor has it that he defeats Voldemort. He is not an all out murderer like Voldemort, but instead, he prefers to go in, undetected, and strike, like a scorpion or cobra. He is highly dangerous, however, and will stop at NOTHING to reach his goals. If seen, please call your local wizard IMMEDIATELY.  
  
Voldemort: Once a highly feared wizard, Voldemort was drained of his power when he attempted to kill Harry Potter, but did not die. His servant Wormtail; a.k.a. Peter Pettigrew brought him back to life, but Sketch, aware of the fact that he had no limits, brought him to a dimension where nothing exists, and defeated him. Voldemort is no longer a fearsome being. He does not live. 


	2. THE HANGLETON GRAVEYARD

HARRY POTTER AND THE DARK CORRIDOR by Smeargle Spence ----------------------------------------------------------------------  
Chapter 1  
---------------------------------------  
The graveyard in Little Hangleton didn't have a very good reputation. People said that if you passed by there at night, you could hear screaming, and voices, three of them, murmuring softly. If you lay on your back and look at the tombstones on a full moon, then the graves would seem to move. But the scariest thing was that on July 31st, each year, the night was filled with screaming. When— and if— you woke up, you would find new gravestones, each of them with a gaping crack down the middle.  
It was on the night of July 31st, that a visitor to the town, Frederick Pompton, decided to take pictures of the tombstones. Being a visitor, Frederick hadn't heard the rumours, and he didn't tell anyone about what he was doing. He was afraid that people from different colleges were spying on him, and wanted to steal his ideas for the International Tourism Project.  
Frederick skipped along, holding his camera tightly, for if he dropped it, all of his precious photographs would be lost. He thought he heard voices, and saw a small fire. _Darn it,_ he thought._Must be some mischevious pranksters._ Nonetheless, a small tremor ran up his spine. He walked forward. The tall arched entryway to the graveyard loomed over him, with the words "Memento Mori" painted on it in blood red. "Just spray paint," he said to himself, but a larger shiver crept up his spine. He extended a hand, and pulled the rusted gate open.  
A million screams cut their ways into Frederick's ears. He clasped them, twisted and turned— and the screams stopped. "Must have been the gate," he murmured to himself. Shivering even more, he tiptoed onto the gravel path. His footsteps made crackling noises on the rock. He stepped into the grass.  
Cold, wet hands grasped his bare legs. Frederick almost screamed, but only a small squeak came out, as he realized it was the blades of grass. Barely moving, he walked towards the light.  
"Remember, you must go under the name of 'Sketch'." a cold, heartless voice said.  
"Why Sketch?" a higher man's voice said. "Couldn't he be Pilfer or Patrick or Harry or—"  
"_DON'T EVER MENTION THAT NAME, WORMTAIL!_" the cruel voice shouted. "I try to dominate the world, and the only person who actually has a chance of doing that comes up in your list of possible names? Do you under stand what I am trying to do here?"  
Frederick stared. He was listening to the conversation of madmen! Loonies! People bent on taking over the world! He suddenly thought of something. He had his camera, so he could take a picture of the criminals!  
"Cut him some slack, Tom," a younger voice said. "Sketch it is. Besides, I personally think someone Transfigured his brain into a soap dish in McGonnagal's class."  
The man named Wormtail growled, and Frederick saw a silvery surface fly towards the speaker. A flash of orange light, and the silvery surface was on the side of the speaker, flashing and sparkling. Meanwhile, the man called Wormtail started sobbing.  
"That shall teach you to try to harm my most faithful servant, Wormtail," the cold voice scolded. "You may have your old hand back. Sketch, leave this place. When you get to Hogwarts by means of the Hogwarts Express, or even before that, hide your right hand. Say you, oh, got in a fight with a Manticore and lost."  
"Roger that," Sketch said.  
Frederick's mouth gaped. He had to take the photo now, or he wouldn't get every one of the criminals in the photo! He turned the power button to ON. He flipped a few switches, aimed at the fire, and—  
FLASH. A blinding flash of white light burst out of his camera. He had forgotten to turn the flash off! He packed up his things, spilling a film canister. He stopped to pick it up, but the voices started talking again.  
"What was that, Wormtail?" the character named Tom asked.  
"I—I—I don't rightly know, sir," Wormtail replied.  
"A Muggle camera, Tom," Sketch answered. "Someone has taken our picture and is escaping." 


	3. THE THIRTEENTH CORPSE

Chapter 2  
--------------------------------------- Frederick ran as fast as he could, spilling film canisters out of his unzipped camera bag. He didn't have time to pick them up.  
He was nearing the graveyard gates now. Five feet, three feet, two feet—  
"Going somewhere?" asked the cold voice. A tall, white figure had appeared before Frederick. He was certain that the figure hadn't been there before.  
"I—I—I know w—what you're p—p—p—planning, T—T—T—Tom," Frederick said, stammering like crazy."Y—you're t—t—trying to t—t—t—take ov—v—ver the w—world, and I'mm going to st—t—top y—y—you."  
"Oh, really?" asked Tom. "And how will you do that?"  
"I—I'm not really sure," Frederick said.  
The tall man laughed, a cruel and merciless laugh. He then pulled out a stick and said jokingly,"_Crucio_."  
Frederick screamed. White-hot knives were piercing his skin. Every part of him was on fire. He wanted to die, to end it all, just die, to not feel a thing—  
It stopped. Frederick was on his knees, hot tears running down his face.  
"Let me handle this," Sketch's voice said. "_Crucio_."  
For the second time in his life, Frederick's body was burning. He had all of the knives, thorns and points sticking through him at once. "Stop!" he screamed. "Stop!"  
"You want me to end this for you, Frederick?" Sketch's voice said, nicer and kinder-sounding.  
"Yes, please, oh please, yes," Frederick sobbed.  
"Okay. For you— _Avada Kedavra!_"  
Frederick saw a flash of green light, a sound of rushing wind, and—  
He was dead before his body hit the ground.  
The villagers woke at the scream. Each one of them called the police. The wizards in Little Hangleton jumped out of their beds, pulled on some clothes over their pajamas, grabbed their wands and ran outside.  
"Come on, Tom," Sketch said. "We have to dig his grave. Thirteenth one tonight. Let's lock the gates up."  
"Right. One thing, though. _Incendio._"  
Fredrick Pompton's film sizzled and burned.  
Sketch was out of the gate by now. Tom, however, was not. He hesitated, waiting for Tom's advice.  
"Tom!" he cried over the shouts of the wizards and 'please-men'.  
"Leave! I'll be fine! I'll—"  
Sketch ran away and disapparated as Lord Voldemort, stripped of his wand, was captured. 


	4. THE DREAM

Chapter 3  
--------------------------------------- Harry Potter woke suddenly. What had he been dreaming about? Images of fires crossed his mind. He shook them out, and convinced himself that he was dreaming about Cho Chang, his crush. He tried to tie fire to Cho. _Fire is red, nice, hot!_ he thought. _Fire is hot and Cho is hot. Problem solved._  
His Aunt Petunia rattled the door. "Get up!" she yelled. It's time for you to go to the Underground to catch your train! Get _up_!"  
Harry rose groggily, and checked his watch. Blur:Blur. He reached for his glasses and put them on. 11:47.  
"Ah!" he yelled. "Who's taking me there?" he asked his aunt.  
"That girlfriend of yours, Hermione Whats-her-face,"her aunt snapped back.  
"She's not my girlfriend," Harry mumbled angrily. "Isn't that right, Hedwig?"  
His owl hooted in response.  
Harry sleepily put on his clothes, and walked out of the cupboard under the stairs just to hear a knock at the door. He grabbed a Pop-Tart™ and stuffed it in his mouth as the door swung open. Two smiling people with perfect teeth and a girl with brown bushy hair were standing there.  
"Hi, Hermione," Harry said drowsily.  
"Hi, Harry," Hermione cheerfully replied. "How was your summer? Did you get the cake I sent—"  
"Hush," Harry added. "Dudley's on a diet. If my aunt hears any of the words 'cake', 'pie', 'dessert' or 'sugar', all I can eat is grapefruit for a month."  
"Wow." Hermione said. "I'm sorry. Hey, get your stuff, because I don't want to be late to meet Ron, Ginny, George, Ron, Fred and Ron!"  
"Uh, Hermione?" Harry asked.  
"Yes, Harry?"  
"You mentioned Ron three times. Does he have two alter-egoes?"  
"Oh, uh, no, not at all," she said, blushing scarlet. "I just have bad short-term memory."  
"Riiiggght," Harry said.  
Twelve hours later, Harry, Ron and Hermione arrived at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 


	5. SKETCH

Chapter 4  
--------------------------------------- "Attention! Attention!" Professor Albus Dumbledore said. "We have a new—or renewed student attending this year. His name— well, he would like to be called Sketch."  
From the back of the crowd, a brown-haired boy wearing a prefect badge stood up and walked to the front of the Hall.  
"Sketch is from a different country, to all of you geography fans out there. I can't understand what country he's from, because he speaks another language, but I understand he is foreign."  
A few people laughed.  
" In that country, he had a bad fight with a Manticore, and lost. His right hand is now severed. Since the last time he was here, he was in Gryffindor, I believe that he should still be in Gryffindor, eh?" Dumbledore asked.  
Cheers arose from the Gryffindor table.  
"I would also like to say this: The House Cup race will be up again this year, but we will not have Quidditch. Also, to anyone who does not understand this school's motto, I will translate it for you: It means 'Never tickle a sleeping dragon'. Aside from that, if you recieved a prefect letter this year, please stand up."  
Sketch, who was standing up, sat down on the ground and stood back up.  
Everyone laughed.  
"You had better not cause as much trouble as last time, Sketch," Dumbledore whispered at Sketch.  
"_Erom ekam ll'i. Yrrow t'nod!_" Sketch replied cheerfully.  
Dumbledore just shook his head and sat, grim-faced.  
The prefects were marching off with Dumbledore when the aged wizard stopped, and turned to face the students.  
"One more thing that I almost forgot to mention!" he cried. "As some of you might have noticed, we have three absences at the staff table this year! One of them is the absence of our poor Professor Breebly. Few of you know him, but he was our secondary Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. Another is the absence of a professor wh was supposed to come this year to replace poor Professor Moody, but I'm afraid that Professor Kigenbalm was viciously shot, stabbed, poisoned, and tortured for some unknown reason. The only information that his neighbors heard him yell was '_Dark Art Hogwarts!_'. Needless to say, this will frighten some of you, but I assure that our replacement is just as good, if not better."  
"Isn't it kind of ironic that a Defense against the Dark Arts teacher would be tortured, presumably by the Dark Arts?" Harry asked Hermione. He then realized that Hermione was up with the prefects.  
"Our third and final absence is that of Professor Snape," Dumbledore said.  
Harry and Ron glanced at the staff table and saw that it was true.  
"Professor Snape had such a high expertise of Potions that no one—I repeat, _no one_ could rival him. So, all first through seventh years have no Potions classes this year." Dumbledore concluded, much to the enjoyment of the Gryffindor table.  
"As I explained to you earlier, Professor Kigenbalm cannot teach. However, one of our new— _re-_newed— students will be teaching. As many of you just might have guessed, Sketch will be teaching Defense against the Dark Arts class this year!"  
Cheers erupted from every table except for the Slytherins'. Harry and Ron high-tenned eachother. Harry caught a glimpse of Cho in the croud. She was jumping in the air too. That made him feel really good.  
"As I told you earlier, Sketch is foreign," Dumbledore continued. "However, I will place a spell upon you so that you may understand him. Doing his duty as a professor, he will teach openly, but he may choose to say some things that cannot be translated. Isn't that right, Sketch?"  
"_Tib a dnatsredun t'now slluksbmun uoy dna, serised eh tahw teg ot nalp s'tromedlov drol uoy ot tuo trulb nac i, yaw taht! Flesym retteb ti dias evah t'ndluoc! Gniddik uoy era?_" Sketch said, violently nodding his hhead up and down.  
"Now, students, I will place on you the translation spell. One, two… _Sketchickus Trasutlus Partallus!_"  
The students felt a warmth pass over them, as if someone had turned on an invisible heater. Suddenly, Sketch's jabbering had meaning! He was greeting them warmly! As he started to say an undistinguishable phrase, the prefects walked off, and a robed hand grabbed him, and pulled him off. 


	6. THE PREFECT'S ROOM

Chapter 5  
--------------------------------------- The prefects marched down the Great Hall's side hall, and into a room with moving stairways. Dumbledore waited for a second, then said "_Prefectomus Pathamamatus_". Immediately, a stairway swung over and waited for them to get on.  
"Students, please get on the stairs," Dumbledore said. The prefects followed hisinstructions, and the stairway swung over to a door rimmed with gold, with a big letter P on the top.  
"Ooh! P for Prefects," Parvati Patil said.  
_Hud_, Sketch thought. Dumbledore whispered "_Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus, Sudanllitit Mauqnun Sniemrod Ocrad,_", then the door swung open and the prefects walked in.  
Sketch tried to shut out Lavender Brown's squeals, but he had to admit, it looked very nice. In it was a gold fireplace, with a fire crackling merrily inside. Around the fire were twenty soft, black chairs. They looked very inviting. And that was just the fireplace. Past the fireplace, there was a door. Sketch knew that door. It led to where his mas— no. He could not think of that. People would pick up his thoughts.  
Past the fireplace, there was a door. Dumbledore led the prefects over to the door. He opened it, and the preefects walked in.  
"This is the Prefect's Corridor," Dumbledore said. Only prefects, and the staff, can enter this door. Just place your badge in the slot, and turn it ninety degrees clockwise." He demonstrated. They walked on.  
"Now, this door is OUT OF BOUNDS to all students. No one shall open it, under penalty of expulsion. Your magic will be taken from you, and you shall be sent to Azkaban. Understand?"  
The students gulped.  
"Good. Now, going down the hall, this door leads to the prefect's bathroom. No explaination there."  
He continued on in this way, until all parts of the prefect's commom room were explained. Sketch settled down in one of the chairs and was about to fall asleep, when a hand touched his arm.  
"Hi," a voice said shyly. Sketch looked around, too tired to realize that the voice was coming from above him. The voice laughed, then a head with bushy brown hair squatted down to his level.  
"I'm Hermione Granger," the girl said, "—friends with Harry Potter. I missed your name. It was… what?"  
"_Hcteks_," Sketch said sleepily, in his own tongue.  
"Sorry, I didn't catch that," the girl said.  
"Sketch," Sketch said, "I'm trying to sleep."  
The girl walked around to the front of the chair and looked in his eyes. "Sleep," the girl said, obviously disappointed. "Well then, sleep well," she said sarcastically. In her mind, she was thinking, glad that no one could hear her; _You're cute, Sketch, you know that?_


	7. THE THING WITH INAPPROPRIATE SPELLS

Chapter 6  
--------------------------------------- Sketch sat upright in his chair, now fully awake. That girl, Hermione What's-her-face had just called him cute! True, she just thought it, but still, that was, well, it just _was_ He had to admit, she was kind of, well—  
_Stop it, Sketch,__ he told himself. __She's a girl, and, well, you're not ready for that yet._  
_Sure you are, buddy!_ a voice in the back of his head said. _ You're sixteen! Besides, everyone else has a special "friend", so why don't you?  
_ He shut both voices out and went to sleep. *** Fred and George Weasley were tinkering with the Omnioculars they got at the Quidditch World Cup. Fred had found an interesting spell that provided x-ray vision to the recieving object of the spell. "Exattumas Raondras…" George said, reading Fred the words from a book. "Exattumas Raondras…" Fred said. Both were unaware of the figure behind them. "Oculas!," George finished. "Oculas!," Fred copied. There was a loud POOF! and a cloud of purple smoke filled the room. When it was done, Fred asked George: "Shall we go check them out?" "Of course," George replied. "Which girl first?" "Neither, if I have my way," said a voice behind them. A hand came down and picked up the modified Omnioculars. Fred and George looked up. They were staring into none other than the face of Sketch. "Detention for both of you…" Sketch said. "…for practicing inappropriate spells on inanimate objects to be used for inappropriate delights. Meet me in my classroom at six tonight. Sharp. I don't want to be kept waiting." Fred and George stared at each other. Had they just been punished by someone younger than them? 


	8. THE MATTER CHANGING SPELL

Chapter 6  
--------------------------------------- Hermione rushed throught the doorway. Today was the day of her first Defence Against the Dark Arts class with Sketch teaching, and she didn't want to miss it!  
"Come in, come in!" Sketch said when the entered. "Have a seat quickly, so that I can begin teaching. No, Miss Brown, I don't have any objections to where you sit, as long as you can focus and pay attention."  
They all took a seat in one of the many tie-dyed beanbags around the classroom. As usual, Harry was next to Ron, who was next to Hermione.  
"Now, today we will be learning about rare spells, charms and curses. Dumbledore said it wasn't necessary, but if you learn the counters now, they'll stick in your mind forever. Now, there are three big rare spells. Anyone know any?"  
Hermione's hand went first up. Parvati, Neville and Ron's hands went up after Hermione's, but Sketch immediately called on Hermione.  
"Hermione. Yes, what's one rare spell?"  
"The Matter-Changing spell, _Twistitatus Mattarius_," she said.  
Sketch smiled. "Yes, the Matter-Changing spell. It is rarely used, for it has a long incantation chant, which the first two words are '_Twistitatus Mattarius_'. I shall demonstrate it. Do not be afraid if your head feels light."  
Sketch's grin faded slowly, and he started chanting. Harry and Ron stared at Sketch. His voice, normally energetic and medium-pitched was suddenly resonating with bass tones. Then a wind passed them, and all was forgotten.  
Harry thought it was like having a fever dream, black but white at the same time, small but large voices telling you to do something, twisted reality everywhere he looked. But instead of being black and white, it was in color. He knew everything, yet all seemed very complicated. He saw evil in Sketch, saw all the evil in everyone, but then looked around and saw the love and kindness. He looked into everyone's mind, knew all there was to know about anyone and everyone, read their deepest, darkest secrets like a child's book, yet he could feel them probing his mind too. Another word was chanted by Sketch, and he didn't know anything about anyone else, except possibly for Cho… He almost forgot who he was, his thoughts of Cho seemed to multiply. _Does she have a brother? Where does she live? Does she bathe or shower? When?_ Sketch chanted another word,and he had doubts about himself. He was stupid comapred to Hermione, wasn't nearly as funny as Ron, was raised by Muggles, didn't know a thing about wizards… Sketch chanted yet another word, and matter twisted like taffy. A beanbag turned into a bean_cube_, Hermione's face looked like some strange Picasso work, and Ron's eyes turned into cones that pointed out farther than his nose. Sketch chanted again, and everything seemed too _much_ in perspective. Harry had eyesight like a hawk, but better. Everything was sharp. He was taking off his glasses…  
…when Sketch said a final word, and everything was normal. People were clutching the sides of their beanbag chairs with an expression that made Harry think that they had been electrified. Their eyes were wide, and their hair was sticking up. Harry did not want to know what they saw.  
"Miss Granger, would you please take Mister Longbottom to the hospital wing, please?" Sketch asked. "When he can make sense of 'one plus one', then give him my most sincerest apologies and this. After you get back, I would like to speak to you." Sketch tossed Hermione a basket, which was full of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Pumpkin Pasties, and the newest kinds of Chocolate Frogs; vanilla creme filled and jam filled. Hermione looked jealously down, and walked out the door, holding Neville, who was taking short, frightened breaths, by the arm.  
"I'm dreadfully sorry," Sketch said. "I hadn't done this spell for a while, and I forgot that not all influences are the same. Now, if you'll excuse me for one second—" He vanished and reappeared at theback of the room, brandishing his wand. He pointed it at a small discolored spot on the rug and said "_Limpio!_". The spot vanished.  
"That's better," Sketch said. "Now, for the other spells— oh, shoot! We're out of time! You have no homework except to look up the Matter-Changing spell. DO NOT ATTEMPT IT. Have a nice day! Class dismissed." 


End file.
